Calling the Soul
by Relinquished
Summary: ‘”This morning, at five o’clock, I heard it. It was a weird sound, like a bird’s call, only it wasn’t. It was something spiritual, something out of this world. I think he’ll be going soon.”’ If he’d listened, he wouldn’t regret. A


The Call  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh  
  
Summary: '"This morning, at five o'clock, I heard it. It was a weird sound, like a bird's call, only it wasn't. It was something spiritual, something out of this world. I think he'll be going soon."' If he'd listened, he wouldn't regret. Angsty Seto/Ryou one-shot.  
  
A/N: I was reading Sally Morgan's 'My Place' and it was so sad, especially at the end! I got the inspiration for this fic through it and I'm bawling as I type!  
  
Warning: TEARJERKER!  
  
ENJOY!  
  
---- The Call ----  
  
Seto's POV  
  
He'd been growing weaker and weaker for a long time now. There would be a pain in his chest and sometimes he wouldn't be able to breathe. It was painful, agonising, for him to live every day as if there was nothing wrong. But he didn't want to hurt me. Yet, deep down inside, I knew there was something wrong, it was only that I had been too preoccupied to really notice it.  
  
Every morning, I would wake up before him as usual, to get ready for work. He would be still sleeping, face serene and calm, like a peaceful child. I always took that expression for granted, thinking that he was well and happy. The fact was he was anything but. Behind that calm and gentle exterior, he was fighting a battle for his life. Behind that smile and those encouraging, loving words, he was suffering.  
  
And I failed to notice it.  
  
Perhaps I would have paid more attention when he refused my advances, if I hadn't been so frustrated at the time. I came home from work, hoping to spend quality time with him and feel his love, and he pushed me away. He said he was sick - and he was. But I didn't see it. I was too blinded by my own petty needs and frustration to see anything.  
  
--------  
  
He loved sitting in the backyard, the garden, where I had had his favourite flowers planted just for him. There were trees and a little pond. He loved spending time there, just relaxing and listening to the sound nature made. A little haven for him, away from the bustling city life he hated. He was a nature person, meant to be with nature, not to be forced to live in a polluted, crowded city like I was.  
  
"Seto-sama," he called in his soft voice. "Come and listen."  
  
I went to his side, leaving my work on the table for just a few moments. His white hair was limp and stringy now, his pale, moon-like face drawn and tired. He barely moved now, hardly played with Mokuba in the game room like he used to. There was no energy in him left to do those things any more.  
  
"What are you listening for?"  
  
"A call."  
  
"What call is it?"  
  
"I don't know yet." His dark eyes were distant and dreamy. "But I'm listening for it."  
  
He was at his best when both Mokuba and I, his only living family left, after his father died, sat with him in the garden. At those times, he would smile and laugh more, and he was genuinely happy. He would tell Mokuba stories about nature and how they were spiritual beings that connected closely with them. Mokuba was in his early teens and usually wouldn't believe those things, but the way he told those stories, it was hard not to.  
  
"There's always a call when someone dies or someone's born," he told Mokuba. "It's like a bird's call and only those who listen carefully enough can hear it."  
  
"A bird's call?"  
  
"Yes, a bird's call." He lapsed into that dream-like state of his. "I heard it being told by the Aboriginal Australians when I visited there once. I heard the call when tousan died."  
  
I assumed he was waiting for that particular call. At the time, I was ignorant of his health and only guessed that he was waiting for it to signal something else. I never thought it would be for him. So I went back to work that night, slaving away on my computer and over proposals, paperwork and reports.  
  
-------  
  
Mokuba came in around seven o'clock the next morning, just as I was about to go to breakfast after an all-nighter. He looked like he had seen a ghost. His eyes were wide and scared and he spoke barely above a whisper.  
  
"I heard it."  
  
"Heard it?"  
  
"This morning, at five o'clock, I heard it. It was a weird sound, like a bird's call, only it wasn't. It was something spiritual, something out of this world. I think he'll be going soon."  
  
And then we both went down into the kitchen. I found him in the living room, sleeping in the large armchair in front of the heater, which wasn't on. He didn't wake up when I scooped up his frail form in my arms and carried him upstairs. Only when I had placed him gently on our bed, pulled up the covers and half-sat, half-lay on the bed supporting him, did he stir.  
  
"Seto-sama?"  
  
"Hai, Ryou-chan?"  
  
"I'm glad you're here with me," he whispered, leaning further in against my chest. "I love you and I've never regretted my decision to stay in Domino."  
  
"What are you saying?" I murmured into his hair, fighting the fear out of my voice.  
  
"I saw them, Seto-sama. This morning, I saw them and they were smiling at me. They were happy and they wanted me to go with them. They said it was my time, because the call has been sounded. Did you hear it, Seto-sama?"  
  
His voice was quiet, but it vibrated with hope and happiness. I buried my face deeper into his hair and held him tightly against me, nodding. My voice couldn't be trusted. I was afraid that I would break down if I even opened it. I should have expected this, I should have spent more time with him when I had the chance.  
  
"This feels nice," he murmured, closing his eyes. "It's warm and safe here."  
  
"Don't close your eyes," I choked out, holding his face in my hands. "Onegai, Ryou, don't close your eyes. You won't be able to open them again if you do. Onegai . . ."  
  
"Doushite, Seto-sama? Don't you want me to be with them?"  
  
"Iie, onegai . . ." I couldn't keep the tears from falling. "You can't leave me . . . onegai, Ryou, onegai . . . I want to spend more time with you . . . I don't want to be alone again . . . aishiteru, Ryou . . . aishiteru . . ."  
  
He lifted a cold, pale hand up to my face and lay it there. His soulful, chocolate eyes searched mine, filling me with a calming, soothing presence. Then he smiled. It wasn't one of those sad, soft smiles he had when he sat in the garden or the indulging and proud ones he wore when telling his stories and when I came home. This smile was one of pure bliss, radiant and bright, like the sunshine after a storm.  
  
"You won't be alone, Seto-sama," he said firmly. "You have more than you know."  
  
"Ryou . . ."  
  
"Could you please - hold me again?" he whispered. "And kiss me . . . one more time?"  
  
I cradled him in my arms gently, leaning his head against my shoulder as I wrapped an arm around his shoulders firmly. The other hand I used to hold both his, bringing them up to my lips and kissing them each. Then I leaned forward and kissed him gently on the lips, barely concealing my pain when my warm ones met his icy cold ones. When we pulled apart, reluctantly, he smiled again, leaning on my shoulder once more.  
  
"Aishiteru, Seto-sama."  
  
"Aishiteru mo, Ryou."  
  
--------  
  
I fell asleep for a brief moment, holding him against me. When I woke up, he was limp and sagging against me. His hands were cold and unmoving, but his face was serene and blissful. I brought my hand up to his face and cupped it gently, letting the tears fall onto his closed eyes as I rested my forehead against his.  
  
And I heard the call. It was like what Mokuba described. Strange, but comfortingly so, a little sad and yet filling me with a warm sense of contentment. I bent over his still form again, kissing him feverishly.  
  
"I heard it, Ryou," I told him. "I did hear it and it was real this time. I heard the call you've been waiting for. You were right - I listened and I heard it. Aishiteru."  
  
His answer was just that same, blissful look of contentment on his pale face. He was back where he belonged and he was finally happy. Mokuba came in quietly and I drew him into my embrace, where we drew comfort from each other's presence.  
  
"He's happy, niisama," Mokuba told me tearfully. "He's been in pain for so long."  
  
"Yes, he's finally happy," I agreed. "And we've got more than we know left for us by him."  
  
---- End ----  
  
A/N: * sniff * TEARJERKER! Ah, so sad!  
  
REVIEW!  
  
Relinquished 


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